


Not Rigoletto

by thebratqueen



Series: Post Ep 4 Fics [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: First Dates, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Romance, post episode 4, vigilante ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 11:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13833585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebratqueen/pseuds/thebratqueen
Summary: The playboy persona was being retired. Even if John hadn't asked, Bruce wasn't interested in it anymore. He had John. There was no way Bruce could even pretend to want anyone else.





	Not Rigoletto

**Author's Note:**

> Here's to the calm before whatever episode 5 throws at us. Much thanks to the Telltale Batjokes community for the love and support.

Thursday evening wasn't a typical night for high society to show off. Which was precisely why Bruce had picked it.

The playboy persona was being retired. Even if John hadn't asked ("I'm possessive of you, is the thing.") Bruce wasn't interested in it anymore. He had John. There was no way Bruce could even pretend to want anyone else.

So a new Bruce Wayne had to - no pun intended - come out. Stress the philanthropist, the socialite, and his new devotion to monogamy with his boyfriend. Bruce had a plan all laid out about how the new Bruce Wayne would make himself known. It involved various stages, but the first step was the introduction, which included the introduction of John.

Hence the choice of a quieter night in the social calendar.

John insisted he could handle it, that he didn't mind wearing masks like Bruce did. But Bruce's concerns were more practical. He knew crowds could overwhelm John. He knew John still struggled with feeling out of step with the world around him. There was no point in forcing John into a trial by fire by making his first night on the town a gauntlet which began with a step and repeat and ended with trying to pretend he didn't want to punch the self-centered members of Gotham's elite right in the face.

After all, Bruce had a hard enough time with that himself.

Besides, he and John had never had a proper date and Bruce wanted to rectify that. For John's sake, especially.

Which was why the two of them were currently in an elevator at the Gotham City Opera House, heading up from valet parking to the level where the Wayne private box seats were located, so John could see his first show.

"Are you sure about this?" John asked. He tugged at his shirtsleeves, adjusting them unnecessarily. He was still getting used to wearing clothes which fit him properly. His distinct hair and pale skin meant other methods were needed to make him look different from his vigilante self. One they'd decided on was color. On patrol John got to wear all the bright and different patterns he wanted. When acting like a civilian the choices were darker solids. Still colors John liked, but paired with blacks and restricted to accents. Tonight John wore a shirt of deep green, with a black waistcoat, pants, jacket, and tie. The designer and tailoring was Italian, which had been Alfred's suggestion. Italian silhouettes, Alfred said, worked well with John's appearance while complementing the American and British designers which dominated Bruce's closet.

Bruce had simply nodded like he knew what any of that meant, and was glad 1) Alfred and John were getting along and 2) that Bruce's role in any sort of discussion about fashion was restricted to paying for things and wearing whatever Alfred told him to.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" Bruce replied. John's outfit was fine. He looked gorgeous, in fact. But Bruce adjusted John's tie anyway, to help reassure him. "You're about to start meeting some of Gotham's elite."

"Pffft." John waved that off. He gave Bruce's tie - green, to match John's shirt - a tug. "I'm with the best. The rest are worthless."

Bruce stared at him, waiting patiently.

"Except as innocent civilians whose lives we save," John filled in, dutifully. "But everybody here's new to me. There's no expectations. You, on the other hand, are about to give up the comfort of one of your old personas. You sure you're okay with that?"

"It's just a mask," Bruce said. "I've got a million of 'em."

John cupped Bruce's face in his hands, making Bruce face him. "Yeah but you like your masks. And this new one's got truth in it. It's okay if you're not ready."

The elevator dinged as they reached their floor.

"It's for you," Bruce told John. "Which means I want to, and I'm ready."

***

They were early enough that people were milling about on the landing before going in to their seats. People were getting drinks from the bar, networking, letting themselves see and be seen. Bruce had counted on this. He'd also counted on the attendance of the first person he made a point of spotting in the crowd.

"Regina!" he called, loudly. He waved, all smiles and affability, and like he was completely oblivious to having drawn the attention of everyone around them. "It's good to see you!"

Regina beelined towards Bruce as soon as it looked like he was perfectly willing to have a shouted conversation with her across the crowd. She gave him a polite smile once she arrived. "Bruce! I didn't know you planned on coming here tonight."

"I'm trying to work on my public image," Bruce told her. "It's like you've always said, what I do reflects on the company. It's made me realize I need to be visible. Represent how Wayne Enterprises stands for the future of Gotham, for the support of its citizens, and for honesty."

"That sounds wonderful, Bruce," Regina said. She helped herself to a glass of white wine from a passing waiter. "The more than you do to help the public forget about, well, the unfortunate scandals of the past, the better it is for everyone."

Bruce refrained from pointing out how one of the unfortunate scandals had been Regina herself helping to throw Bruce out of his own company so Oz could take Bruce's place. Instead Bruce kept smiling his most friendly smile as he said, "I could not agree with you more. Which is why I'm glad - no, grateful you're here tonight. It means the world to me to have your support as I introduce everyone, including you, to my boyfriend."

Regina paused, her wineglass sadly too far from her lips for her to be in danger of a spit take. "Your what?"

Bruce motioned towards John, who'd been standing behind him. John waved. "Regina Zellerbach, meet John Doe. Actually… you've both met before, haven't you?"

"We - " Regina's eyes widened when the memory hit. "The fashion consultant?"

John draped himself against Bruce's side. His hand lingered over the front of Bruce's pants. "What can I say? Brucie liked my style."

At which point Regina made her excuses to leave and Bruce wondered if it was too soon to think about asking John to marry him.

***

A few introductions with people Bruce didn't care about, and John was comfortable enough with the crowd that Bruce felt he could leave him alone for a few moments.

"I have a business thing," he said. He gave John a kiss on the cheek, fully aware pictures might be taken of them. "Keep making friends, I'll be right back."

John looked thoughtful, but let him go and resumed talking to a twentysomething socialite whose name ended with a Y or two EEs about their favorite makeup brands.

Hector Gallo was in charge of the opera house. He was in his late 50s, balding, had a bit of a paunch but wasn't out of shape, and had never been married. Bruce found him, thankfully, out of earshot of John.

"Mr. Wayne!" Gallo spread his arms wide, as though presenting Bruce as the next attraction. "What an honor it is to - "

"I'm on a tight clock so let's make this quick," Bruce told him. He tapped his phone's screen and showed Gallo the results. "Those are funds from my personal account which have just been transferred into the Opera House's. I believe that covers the cost for the new ballet center on your wish list?"

Gallo's mouth opened and closed a few times, but he recovered. "I - Mr. Wayne that is - Thank you! You want the center to be named after your mother?"

These days that was what Bruce asked for, if it was a donation for a name kind of thing. But tonight was different. "No. I need something else. The gentleman I came with tonight. I need him to be taken care of. The best treatment. Nobody makes him feel strange or out of place. Anything he asks for, he gets, no matter how outlandish."

Off of Gallo's quizzical look, Bruce moved them both so they could glimpse John in the crowd. "Him."

"Anything he wants?" Gallo asked.

"Anything legal," Bruce amended, when he considered the boundaries John was still learning and the perceptions people had of Bruce thanks to his father. "I… look I'm trying to do the _Pretty Woman_ thing here. Not that he - he's not a prostitute. I just want him to have a good night."

Bruce had thought he was confessing to a lack of imagination on his part. However, Gallo was looking at him with what Bruce could only describe as approval. "Oh I see! I didn't realize you - absolutely. We would be delighted. Do you need the dress and the necklace?"

"Not that literal," Bruce said. "But good instincts. Just - whatever he wants, treat him like a prince, don't let him know we had this conversation, and if the night goes well I'm doubling that donation."

"Consider it done," Gallo promised, and immediately began intercepting and whispering into the ears of his staff.

***

Which was how Bruce and John ended up in the Wayne private box with John slurping on a 40 oz cherry soda and a tub of movie theater popcorn between them large enough to hide a cocker spaniel in.

"I had no idea you could get snacks!" John said. He looked for somewhere to put his cup and settled for placing it on the floor. "Do you think they have free refills?"

"I think we can afford it if they don't," Bruce replied.

"Right. Still getting used to that." John turned his attention to the program. He flipped through the pages of ads until he got to the information about the night's show. "My first opera! This is so exciting! This is… this is in French? I don't think I know French."

"There's translations," Bruce said. He pointed towards the small electronic display attached to the railing in front of him. There was one like it for every seat in the house. "That will show you what they're saying in English, or any other language really."

John was immediately distracted by pushing the buttons. He cycled the prompts from English through Russian. "No pig Latin, huh? Any games?"

"They're not so advanced," Bruce said. "Of course they haven't been upgraded in a while either. Maybe we can make a future donation, if you want."

John was already on to the next thing. In addition to the food he'd asked for opera glasses. He flipped them into place and scanned the crowd. "Boring, boring, ooo those are some naughty pictures on that person's phone, dull, boring, huh - somebody snuck in their own food. Maybe they don't know about the popcorn?"

"Maybe they didn't know they could ask," Bruce suggested. He was spared having to come up with further explanation when the lights flashed indicating the start of the show.

***

Bruce was neutral on operas. As a required event for his rich boy persona, he preferred them to parties since parties involved talking to people while the opera allowed him to sit in his private box and at least get some work done on his phone. Bruce tended to do this regardless of whether or not he was sitting by himself.

For John, though, Bruce had put more effort in. In addition to the day, Bruce had chosen an opera he thought would appeal to John's tastes. The music was light and energetic. The libretto was based on _Commedia dell'arte_. To all reports the current production leaned in to that tradition, stressing the humor with lots of colorful costumes, big gestures, and humor so wide no translation was necessary - pratfalls and fart jokes needed no explanation, after all.

With all of that and the cast of characters, Bruce figured this was as good a shot as any of being an opera John could enjoy. Sure enough, it didn't take John long to get into it. He laughed and clapped, he moved his hands along to the music as though he were conducting it, and he mouthed words during the singing.

Bruce gave up on watching the show and instead watched John. Seeing John like this, relaxed, happy, made warmth spread inside of Bruce's chest. Bruce would've been content to let John go on for the entire show like that, but then he noticed something which surprised him:

The display in front of John was turned off.

"John," Bruce whispered. He tapped John's arm to get his attention.

John leaned back in his seat to look at him. When he replied his voice was not nearly as soft as Bruce's had been. "Yeah, buddy?"

Bruce indicated John's lack of captions. "Can you understand what they're saying?"

"What? Oh. No." John waved it off. "Trying to watch both was distracting. I got the idea. I've been making up the story myself since then."

"Tell me?" Bruce asked.

"Really?" There was a light in John's eyes that Bruce had learned was John feeling nervous but hopeful. It was John daring to let himself believe he might be getting something he wanted. It was a feeling Bruce knew well, particularly when it came to anything involving John. "I thought - I mean you aren't using the thing either so you probably speak French and know exactly what they're saying and I'm just making stuff up because it makes me happy and  - "

Bruce took one of John's hands in his and kissed it. He threaded their fingers together, letting it be something solid John could ground himself against. "I want to hear your version. Please?"

John looked back and forth between Bruce and the stage. He giggled, muffled it, cleared his throat, then said. "Okay. Uh, so there's this jester and a knight - "

"Prince," Bruce corrected, without thinking. There was a jester. As for the other, he knew which character John had in mind. "He's not a knight, he's a prince."

John rolled his eyes. "He's _both_. Not everybody knows that. Including the audience. They only see the prince, _get it_?"

"Oh." Bruce pictured a cartoon dunce cap appearing over his head. "Right. Sorry. Continue."

John patted Bruce's hand. "Luckily the prince gets by a lot because he's pretty. He's super handsome and most people think that's all he is. Well that and his bananas."

"Bananas," Bruce said.

"He collects them," John explained.

"That's not the fruit the opera's named - "

"Do you want to hear my version or not?"

Bruce clamped his mouth shut.

"Thank you." John paused for a sip of his soda. "So, everybody thinks the prince is great because he's super hot and you should see his ass in a pair of jeans, I mean really. But one day he gets sick. Well everybody finds out he's sick. The jester though, he knew. See, he knew the prince's secret. He knew the prince was a knight and he cared so much about his kingdom that every night he - "

"Did charity work?" Bruce suggested. They were in a private box, but it wasn't private enough for Bruce to feel comfortable giving too many hints about his alter ego.

John nodded, understanding. "Lots of charity work. Tons. But the prince had his own idea about what that charity work should be, and other people - uh - well let's just say there were disagreements all around and the prince pushed himself too hard and he ends up bedridden. And everybody's upset because they think the hot prince isn't hot anymore. But the jester knows it's worse because if the prince is sick he can't be _himself_. And if the prince isn't himself well that's bad for everybody, not just the jeans industry. So the jester goes on a quest to save the prince. Which involves finding different kinds of fruit because it turns out eating nothing but bananas is bad for you."

"I see," Bruce said.

"Hence the title," John added.

"No, I got that," Bruce told him. He rubbed John's hand between his own. "Are the bananas a metaphor or - "

"Sometimes a banana is just a banana, Bruce."

Bruce couldn't help it. He snickered. "Right. Well, that's a very good interpretation but - no offense - I think you missed a detail."

John blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Bruce asked. He pretended to look innocent, knowing John would be able to tell it was an act. "It'll spoil the ending."

John studied Bruce's face, trying to figure out what Bruce's angle was. He seemed extra curious when he couldn't guess. "Tell me."

Bruce motioned for John to come closer. He leaned in as well, so he could whisper into John's ear. "The knight is in love with the jester. The story's a fairy tale, so - "

John pulled away before Bruce could finish. He stared at Bruce, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Bruce wondered if he'd done something wrong. If so, it would be his own fault for trying to use his imagination to create a romantic gesture, neither of which he was good at. Clearly the lesson was that he needed to shut up and restrict his efforts to spending money on things, since those, at least, he was capable of and didn't run the risk of -

Then John lunged forward and kissed Bruce. He tasted like watered down soda and movie theater butter and Bruce could've easily kissed him for the rest of his life.

They continued that way until intermission. Kissing, at least, Bruce knew he was good at.

***

"I didn't know the Herald was covering tonight's performance," Bruce said as he walked up to Gina Williams at the landing bar during intermission. John had gone to the men's room, protesting about only renting the soda. That gave Bruce a little time to implement another stage of his plan.

He knew Gina socially. The dark-haired, dark-eyed woman currently wearing some sort of paisley wrap dress was related enough to Gotham's elite that she could've coasted her life on trust fund money. Not as part of the super rich, but comfortably. Instead she'd gone into reporting. Her career probably would've gone farther by now except she'd started out at the Gazette on the beat Vicki Vale had wanted. It hadn't been obvious to anyone at the time, but when Bruce went back through the records he could see how Vicki had planted evidence to get Gina fired. It had taken time for Gina to find work again, and even now at the Herald she wasn't at the same status she'd been before Vicki's interference.

Before she'd been fired, Gina had reported on politics and corruption in the city. Now she was on the Herald's gossip beat.

Bruce figured there was a lot of mutual benefit to be had here.

"Bruce!" Gina smiled at him. They'd met at parties, first names were allowed. "This isn't work, this is pleasure."

"Funny, same," Bruce said. He motioned for the bartender to get him a glass of wine and to bring Gina another of whatever she was having. He politely didn't mention that he knew Gina's seat was located two floors below his, and thus Gina had made a point of coming up here. After all, her desire to get a scoop was helping him.

"So I hear." She scooted closer, speaking softer for privacy. "There's buzz you have someone new in your life."

"Are you asking me on the record?" Bruce replied.

"Does that change your answer?" Gina nodded her head towards the crowd around them. "People are already saying things. May as well control the message."

"The last time a reporter pitched me something like that it didn't go well for either one of us," Bruce told her. When Gina started to protest, Bruce held up his hand to stop her. "However, let's say I'm in a position to try building a relationship with the media again. Perhaps with a reporter I already know. Perhaps with a demonstration of trust on both our parts."

"What kind of demonstration?" Gina asked.

The bartender brought over Bruce's wine and Gina's seltzer. Bruce tipped a hundred and then motioned for Gina to join him in a more quiet corner. "I'd like my quotes to not be taken out of context. So let's say if I see what I give you tonight appear as-is in your column tomorrow, I'll give you an exclusive interview about the topic."

Gina pulled her phone out of her bag. "So this is on the record?"

"Write it," Bruce told her. "I've got issues with recordings of me being abused. And you're getting something official and something officially unofficial."

Gina looked at him suspiciously but swapped out her phone for a pen and a notebook. "This better be about what I think it's about."

"Officially," Bruce said, speaking at a pace that let her writing keep up with him, "I am here tonight with a man named John Doe. He is my boyfriend. You can say I confirmed he and I are in a relationship."

Gina didn't look up from her notebook. "Okay. I appreciate the confirmation but Bruce you gotta know there's already pictures on social media of you two together. What's the scoop?"

"Unofficially," Bruce leaned in to whisper, "a source close to me told you that I said it's the best sex I've ever had."

That got her pen to stop for all of a second before she quickly wrote his every word. She showed him the page when she was done. "That's the quote? You see that I get the Bruce Wayne is Gay Now exclusive?"

"Bisexual," Bruce told her. He nodded to confirm her notes were right. "And yes."

Gina put her notebook away. "Consider it done."

"Bruce!" John's voice came through the crowd before John himself appeared. "There you are!"

"Hey, John. Come meet Gina, she's an old - " Bruce trailed off when he saw what John had on his head. "Where did you get a baseball cap?"

"Oh this?" John beamed, pointing at the black hat he now wore which bore the logo for the opera house. "The manager gave it to me. He said since I was enjoying the show so much it'd be a big mistake not to offer me something to wear as a souvenir."

"A big mistake," Bruce said.

" _Huge_ ," John confirmed, spreading his hands wide.

Bruce looked past John into the crowd. He saw Gallo standing by the elevators. Bruce gave him a nod of approval then turned back to John. "Well I'd say this moment calls for a picture. Gina, do you mind?"

"Who's Gina?" John asked.

"An old friend." Bruce swiped the unlock pattern on his phone which made it act like a regular smartphone, hit the button for the camera, then handed it to Gina. "Here. If it's good maybe I'll send you a copy."

"Oo, wait!" John said. "Can we do this prom photo style? I never had one."

"Of course," Bruce said.

John arranged their position, while Bruce made a mental note to have their next social event involve formal wear and dancing. They ended up with Bruce behind John, his hands around John's waist, John's hands resting on his.

"There!" John said, proudly. "The picture, if you please."

Gina snapped a couple before handing Bruce's phone back. "I've never wanted to steal a phone more in my life."

"We're building trust," Bruce reminded her.

"What was that about?" John asked, when Gina left, saying she had to get to work.

"Wayne business," Bruce told him. It was also about how Bruce knew John enjoyed reading the gossip columns, so if Gina kept her word there'd be a nice surprise for John to find in the morning. But John didn't need to know about that right now.

John looked uncertain, but shrugged it off. "Okay. Anyway, what do you want to eat? I asked and it turns out you can order dinner in while you watch the show. I was thinking burgers and fries? Maybe a milkshake?"

"You could have something fancier if you want," Bruce told him.

"I know," John said. "But I want burgers and fries."

"Fine by me." Bruce kissed John's cheek. "Get enough for two. I'll meet you in our seats."

***

They passed the rest of the show with their food and John's continued narration of what the story was truly about. John introduced a subplot about a heartbroken jeans inspector who tried to sabotage the happiness of the jester and the prince. The inspector was thwarted by a clever witch who invented a spell to transform the inspector into a farmer.

"So he can grow bananas?" Bruce asked.

"No, vegetables," John said, around a mouthful of fries. "A kingdom cannot live by fruit alone. It's bad for the economy."

Between the food and John's talking - which included his attempts to imitate the tenors of the prince and the jester, and the soprano of the witch - they earned more than a few glares from those in nearby boxes. Regina especially looked like she would've given Bruce a lecture right then and there if it wouldn't add to the noise.

As far as Bruce could tell John was oblivious and happy. That was the only thing Bruce cared about.

***

At the end of the show Bruce lingered only long enough to let Gallo know the second donation was on its way. Then Bruce saw one of the ushers had managed to package John's leftover popcorn into a tinfoil swan. Bruce added a double digit percentage to the second donation to show his appreciation, in addition to slipping a few hundreds to the usher in question when he thought John wasn't looking.

"We'll be coming back," Bruce told Gallo.

"Please do!" Gallo replied, with the devotion of a man for whom all future fundraisers in the remaining fiscal calendar had been turned into icing on a more than paid for cake.

After, there was nothing but the drive home. Bruce did the usual quick checks for anything out of order - no messages from Alfred, no signals in the sky - and dared to let himself think the ride back to the manor would be uneventful.

John's chatter during the show had calmed once it had ended. He sat in the passenger seat, his legs tucked under him, and the tinfoil swan perched in his lap. He petted the swan's back with long strokes of his hand. His lips moved but no sound came out.

Bruce didn't interrupt. Sometimes John needed to regroup after being in crowds. The mass of sights, sounds, and smells could overwhelm him. Dark and quiet helped him get centered again. Luckily Bruce was good at both.

Bruce assumed it was one of those times until, after they'd been some miles out of the city, John spoke.

"Hey, can you pull over for a sec?"

"Are you okay?" Bruce looked at John to see if he was ill. He could get John to a hospital in one minute if he had to, thirty seconds if he switched the car over to the Batmobile and didn't give a shit about showing up without the suit on.

John seemed to guess Bruce's concern. "No. I mean - not urgent. Just… somewhere private?"

"Okay," Bruce said, mostly to reassure John. Bruce was still worried, though now because he couldn't guess what was wrong. "I know a place near here, is that all right?"

"I trust you."

Bruce wanted to protest. John's shoulders were hunched, which usually meant something was upsetting him. Bruce didn't like not knowing what that was, particularly when odds were high Bruce was the one who had screwed up somehow.

But John had reminded him of trust, and trusting John had never steered Bruce wrong. So Bruce stayed quiet and instead focused on getting to the right spot.

A benefit of being rich and from an old family was owning land all over the city. In this case acres in the woods that weren't far off the highway, and which led to a view of the river. Bruce had plans of turning the land underneath the forest into a second cave in case of emergencies, but for now it was untouched. The Wayne ownership of the land was old enough that Bruce didn't have to wonder who his father had tortured to lay claim to it. It also meant there was little concern of anyone coming across him and John when Bruce parked the car in a small clearing, leaving only the moonlight to illuminate them.

"This good?" Bruce asked. When John didn't answer right away, he added, "It's ours so it's private."

"Can I talk to my best friend?" John asked.

Bruce frowned. Did John mean him or - "Uh, what?"

"I wanna talk to my best friend, Bruce." John unbuckled his seatbelt and turned sideways to face him. "Not my boyfriend. Can you be my bestie, for me?"

Understanding clicked. John meant role playing. Bruce could do that. At least this time he wouldn't have to try an accent. Bruce undid his own seatbelt and made a show of sitting with a different, slightly less intimate posture. "Hi, John."

John's face lit up. "Bruce! Long time no see!"

Bruce was lost again. Was John trying to say Bruce hadn't been acting enough like a friend lately? Or that Bruce been pushing the non-platonic side of their relationship too hard? Maybe John hadn't been ready for the world to know he and Bruce were dating. Maybe John felt it was too fast. Maybe -

"It's improv," John whispered, tugging Bruce's jacket to get his attention. "You're supposed to 'yes, and.' Remember?"

"Right." Bruce took a breath. He could do this. It was for John. "Uh - yes, it's always good to see you, John."

John smiled at him and settled back into place. "Great to see you too! We have so much to catch up on! I have news. Big news. I've met somebody."

Bruce didn't need any coaching to know how he should reply. "Really? Are you going to tell me their name?"

"In a minute," John said. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I - I need your advice on something first. I'm kinda lost. Figured maybe with all your experience you could guide me?"

"I'll do my best," Bruce said. "Always happy to help you, John. Let's hear it."

"He - I - see the thing is - we - I " John laughed, then tried to stifle it. He pointed towards his forehead apologetically. "So many thoughts. Sorry."

If they weren't pretending Bruce would've reached out to caress John's cheek. But since Bruce never let himself do that as John's friend, he said, "Take your time. It's okay. Maybe breathe?"

John nodded. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, his fingers twitching as he counted out the length of his calming exercises. When he was done he left his head bowed, looking at the tinfoil swan, but he was able to speak. "You know, when I was in Arkham… I didn't know who I was. Literally. Not just my name but anything about me. I had these thoughts and feelings and ideas but… I didn't know - I didn't know about _normal_ , you know? Like what is normal, who says what's normal, how do you know if you're not?

"At first I thought maybe Arkham was normal. Maybe everybody there was like everybody everywhere." John's fingers picked at the swan, pulling the foil in some places, smoothing it in others. "Everybody there was mean, and violent, and nuts. _I_ was mean and violent and nuts. That was normal. But then I got better enough to go out more. Go to the rec room, meet new people. Watch TV. And I saw people who were different. Some nice, some not. Some just as mean and crazy as any of us were, but nobody locked _them_ up. Nobody took _their_ lives away for something they couldn't - "

John stopped himself. He took another calming breath. "There was more than Arkham. I could see that. I told myself I was going to do that. I was going to get out there. I was going to - to be in that world I saw on TV. I had as much right to be out there as anybody else."

"Of course you did," Bruce said. He might not have thought so when he'd first met John, but he believed it in his soul now.

John gave Bruce a rueful smile. "You saw how well that worked out. I got out into the world and it was too much. I was the smallest fish in the biggest pond. I was lost. I was going to drown. Can fish drown? Whatever fish do that's like drowning. I thought - it felt like there was nothing here for me. I didn't belong."

"But that changed?" Bruce said, when John lapsed into silence.

"Remember when I said Harley was my light outside of Arkham?" John motioned for patience. "I'm not gonna talk about her much, I promise. Just… I realized that - that wanting that light was missing my old home. It was me clinging to what I knew, going backwards. It felt nice, but only because it meant not taking a risk on - on trying to change. On finding out that maybe there wasn't anything in me but what somebody thought should be locked away. But this new guy? It's not like that with him."

The possessive tension that had formed in Bruce's body at the mention of Harley's name relaxed. "How so?"

"He shows me new ways to be," John said. He kept fiddling with the swan, but a smile shaped his lips as he spoke. "Ways I didn't even think of. Stuff that's good, and kind. Helpful. He believes in me. He believes I can be a good person, even if I'm not normal. He reminds me a lot of you that way, Bruce."

Bruce smirked. "Does he now?"

"And he - " John hesitated. He stopped playing with the swan and Bruce saw that John had sculpted pointed bat ears on the swan's head. "He took me out on a date. Like a real one, with fancy suits, and food, and a show. And when we were out people were nice to me. They called me 'sir' or 'Mr. Doe.'"

John wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "And - and I know he did that. Probably bribed them or something and thought I wouldn't notice."

"Maybe he knows better than to underestimate you," Bruce replied, wondering what trying to buy Christmas and birthday gifts was going to be like if John was this observant.

"Maybe." John put the swan on the dashboard, drawing his knees up towards his chest once his lap was free. "I don't mind if he did. That's the point, really. If it wasn't for him none of this would've happened. He's given me everything. I have all these experiences, and opportunities, and - and I can be out here. I _want_ to be out here, and it's because of him. Harley was the light outside of Arkham, but this guy - he's the _world_."

Bruce reminded himself to breathe. He also reminded himself he was pretending to be John's best friend, which meant he couldn't grab John and kiss him senseless no matter how much he desperately needed to. Instead Bruce swallowed on a throat that felt far too dry and said, "That's beautiful, John. What - uh - what advice did you need from me, exactly?"

"I need to know what to say to him." John looked up, his green eyes meeting Bruce's blue. "See, tonight wasn't just a date. Tonight he told me he loved me. He never said that before. I don't think he realizes he never said that before."

Bruce sure as hell didn't. How had he not said that? He felt the emotion so keenly it was like the air he breathed. It was in his blood, his cells, his DNA. His entire existence was love of John. How could he be shaped by it so completely yet never say the words aloud?

"He's not much of a talker," John said, possibly seeing the expression on Bruce's face, possibly reading Bruce's mind like he always did. "But… I realized when he said it that I never told him either. So I wanted to ask my bestie for advice on the best way to tell a guy you love him. How I can tell my guy I love him, and I have loved him this whole time even if I didn't - "

"John, please tell me I can stop pretending to be just your friend," Bruce said. Because now he understood. There was a difference from the way he and John existed together, connected, bound for the rest of their lives in a way that meant _of course_ they loved each other and the feeling, the utter _tsunami_ , the shattering, the universe-tilting, the godlike impact of hearing the word "love" come from John's lips and be meant for Bruce and Bruce needed to touch John right god damned now.

John nodded and they were kissing. Hard. Blood got drawn somewhere and Bruce didn't know if it was John's lip that was cut or his. Possibly both. It didn't matter. They were so much a part of each other that things like which body things started from seemed like an academic point at best.

John and Bruce, Bruce and John - they whispered it to each other. Lived it. Felt it as they clumsily got clothes out of the way and what was needed to bring their bodies together as best they could in the confines of the car. There was a goodness, a rightness to the way they fit together, to feeling John wrap around him, Bruce deep inside of John, one less barrier between them, trying for the physical to match the emotional however it could with thrusts, biting, bruising grips, nails that cut skin, anything that got them closer because that was the way it was meant to be and every time they whispered, gasped, breathed "I love you" the need grew greater until they were both shaking, desperate, and then gone beyond words or thoughts or anything but the sensation of the nearness of each other, and how right that felt to them both.

***

"Your world, huh?"

They were still curled up against each other. At some point they'd put their clothes back on and resume the drive home. That point was not now. Nor, in Bruce's opinion, was it within the next 15 minutes.

"I have the world because of you," John said. He pressed a soft kiss to Bruce's neck. "You gave it to me."

Bruce titled his head to look at John. "You're my light. I know that's your word. I'm not creative like you are. But  - I'm happy, because of you. I'm not alone. Before all I had was the mission. You give me more than that. Thanks to you sometimes I actually feel - "

"Good?" John suggested. He caressed Bruce's cheek with the back of his hand. "Like it's okay you're alive?"

Bruce nodded, glad John could say the words for him.

"Then I'll be your light," John said. He kissed Bruce again. "And you'll be my world. It sounds perfect."

***

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points to anybody who guesses what the opera was.


End file.
